Unbreakable
by luv4eva
Summary: What if good was bad? What if pure wasn't so pure? Harry is sent on an adventure for his life. He must face starvation, torture and betrayals. His views of everything are twisted around and Harry changes. Suicide attempts, death, violence and swearing.
1. All Alone

Chapter 1-All Alone

It was a beautiful day as Harry slept. The sun was high and lolling about as the birds sang their morning song. Showers were heard throughout the Gryffindor tower as the students drifted in and out of their dreamland. The sun shone, illuminating Harry's face, his scar slightly fading. Anyone who would have looked at him now would not have seen the adolescent boy who lived, they would have seen a man who had faced many trials and life changing events in his life. His life had not been gentle to him as his ever fading scars criss-crossed across his bare back. He had a story for every scar or bruise that haunted his body. His face was chiseled by the gaunt features. He looked as if he had gone days without food or water, which no human could survive. The red and gold blankets spread around him only made him look paler and sick. The only thing one could not see upon looking at this boy, was the hate and torture he had to endure.

He jolted out of bed, his past dreams coming back, invading his mind. His green eyes searching for the danger that he had sensed so near. He mumbled something under his breath and covered his ears with his hands. He soon went to yelling which turned to full blown screaming, slicing through the quiet atmosphere like a knife in butter. The birds near the window flew off in fast retreat and the sun seemed to disappear slightly, as if afraid the screams of the boy would create a cataclysm. Other students eyed the room curiously, not daring to venture inside and console the boy's fears. Of course, this is how it had always been. Everyone had been afraid, or too sinister, to help the boy through his life. They all passed him off as the boy who lived. Yes, it was true. But at one point, somewhere in his distant memory, he could remember love and glory through the pain and hatred that now surged through his veins.

He had had...love, though he could not remember for who or when. His memory was clouded by visions of death. His friends, yes, that is what he had called them...friends. A red head and a brunette, their features escaped him. They had loved him and were there for him. No! They had betrayed him, as every other person he knew had too. Voldemort had been right. No one loved him, they hated him. They...the people who he felt closest to at some point, they left him in the dark, only bringing him out when they were bored. Some times they mocked him, or worse...tortured him. This is why he could not feel, could not sleep and could not get rid of the feeling that he was always in danger, everywhere he turned. Some called him crazy, sent him to the hospital, but he knew, they were the ones who didn't know what torture was like. They sat around in their homes, playing like children, as he suffered. He had spent many a night in the wilderness, with no food or water, dying, trying to save their world.

His eyes were empty when he finally settled down. No light seemed to reach him. He plunged into darkness as unconciousness took over his mind and body. He entered an eternal sleep. But in the first drawer of the bedside table, if one opened it, a small pensieve would be visible. A black liquid swishing around inside, memories, hatred. Touching the dark liquid, one is drawn into his first memory when everything began, in the summer of his 16th year in life. 


	2. Who Knows?

Chapter 2- Who Knows

Harry awoke to the pounding of his uncle's knuckles on the locked door. "Wake up boy! We're going out and we expect lunch to be ready when we get home or punishment will be put into effect!" Uncle Vernon said, knowing Harry would fear this because of the last time. Harry shuddered as he felt the scar on his left arm burn slightly with the comment. He took a deep breath in, slipping his starved body out of his undersized, broken bed.

His calloused feet shuffled roughly against the unsanded wooden floor. Harry's green eyes looked about the room, surveying his surroundings. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and listened. He did this often, trying to listen to hear any small movement around him. His senses had increased and he could easily hear a pin drop at a lawn party. His thoughts were interrupted by the great bellow from the whale Mr. Dursley. "Hurry up boy, we're leaving now!" He only left his room after he heard the door slam shut, shaking the house.

He was outside a few minutes later, picking vegetables from the garden. Harry was knee deep in the dirt, digging for carrots when he heard rustling nearby. He fingered his wand in his pocket carefully. The sound was coming from a bush on the other side of the yard. He looked at it out of the corner of his eye, trying not to alert whatever resided in the leafy foliage. His carrots were forgotten in the newfound situation.

Something was in the bushes. If Harry didn't get back to working than he would be punished but if he did then that gave the thing in the bush a chance to attack. The rustling got louder and Harry fought with his mind on what to do. All of a sudden, Hedwig came out of the bush trailing blood. All of Harry's fears and tasks were forgotten as he tried to console his snowy owl.

He took Hedwig to the bathroom and bandaged his wing, which was heavily bleeding. Only then did Harry notice the black letter attached to her leg. He slid it off as she slept. There was a silvery green texture to the envelope and it was cool to the touch.He marveled at the silver writing on the front. To Mr. H.J. Potter. He opened the letter and six small stones fell out along with a letter. The letter read:

Dear Harry,

It has come to my intention that you are soon turning seventeen an therefore charges will be taken much more seriously. It is my regret to tell you that you are being charged of theft of Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley two months ago. Your wand was found at the shop in the basement. This is also not the first time that something like this has happened so the trial will determine whether you will be expelled, sent to Askaban or set free. The trial will take place on the 23rd of July. Transportation has been arranged. Please dress appropriatly.  
Minister Fudge

He closed the letter, confusion set on his face. His thoughts were invaded when the stones seemed to have a slight chill although he had been holding them for a few minutes now. He looked at the stones closely. They were emerald green with deep forest green lines crossing them. They were breathtakingly beautiful and Harry gasped when they seemed to breath with him. He was alittle creeped out until he felt the stones connect to his senses. He had no idea what these stones were or why he had ended up with them. Did they belong to his parents? Did Voldemort send them? He didn't have much time to think about it because the Dursleys had arrived home. Harry inwardly groaned, knowing what was coming next.

It was like deja vu all over again. He was thrown against the wall, the wind knocked out of him. Punches were thrown everywhere and Harry was the target. He no energy to fight back just a wish that it would all end. He had no such luck as Mr. Dursley brought out the belt and begin to slap it against Harry's back, creating new scars that joined the re-opened wounds from the last time. The next bit was a flurry, new bruises and cuts, broken bones, nothing that he wasn't used to. He had learnt long ago not to cry because it only resulted in more pain for being a wuss. He stared unfeeling at the grey wall opposite him and slowly and painfully slipped into darkness. The stones still held in his hands tightly.

When Harry awoke later on, it was already fairly late. The street lights lit the streets and a few people lingered around, talking, laughing. Harry was envious. The last time that he had laughed...he couldn't even remember. It must have been sometime long ago, before his godfather fell behind the veil, before Voldemort came back to life. That was two years ago. As he thought he thought of the last time he smiled, truly smiled. It must have been so long ago because Harry couldn't even remember the feeling. All he felt was numbness and it overwhelmed him.

Any person would have thought this tragic, even thought Harry lived in his very own hell. Of course this was a normal opinion or reaction of many. It made Harry stand out too. He was the type of boy who just wanted to fit in , be part of the crowd, not stand out like a rose in a field of lilies. For 5 years he had been saving his world and it was tiring.

He grabbed his journal from the box he had been given for his belongings. He opened it and flipped to a new page, pain surging through his left arm. His phoenix feather quill dipped into the blood red ink and started to make swirls and lines on the page. Harry's hand guided it into writing. He began with a poem he had learnt awhile ago from his parents. It had been a dream of course because his parents were dead and always would be. He began to write.

"The sky is dark The clouds are gone Stars shine bright and sing a song

The smowflakes sparkle as they spiral down The moon sparkling Off their silver crown

Lovers embrace In the cool night air Whispering beauty A moment so rare

A small child sits In the light of the moon Looking for love That she lost so soon

Her parents are gone Her brother has left Nothing is there She has nothing kept

Except a small locket Which stays round her neck to remind her of love and of happiness yet

Love lost, love gained In all sorts of places Her tears gathering As she looks at the faces

Her small brown eyes Now glowing with tears As the couples move on And nobody hears

They go on laughing and giggling away Love that they feel True love as they say

The small little girl still sits under the light Her tears still glowing With heavenly might

Somebody stops To ask her her name Wipes away her tears and says what a shame

The woman who stopped Now grabs the girl's hand They walk off in the night Which feels grand

Now that little girl Who sat in the light Crying about lost love Is home and alright"

Harry sighed. He had learnt the poem when he was young. It had arrived in a letter when he was five. He had memorised it and written it everynight. It made him think that he could have a happy ending as well. Through all the darkness there is always hope. He winced as he walked over to his bed and painfully sat down. He put the book beside the bed then slowly lowered himself to the lumpy mattress. Pain filled sleep came after a trip down memory lane. The stars shone outside the barred window. His dreams turned to nightmares as he thrashed around, his cheeks wet from stinging tears. He was lost in another premonition. He was trapped and there was no way out. Everything was dark. There was no hope.

A/N: I know it's short but ya like? Please R+R next chap- reality- Harry sinks further into depression. What will happen when he has to go to the hospital? What if he ran away and the knight bus didn't show up? 


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